“Oh my son, arise from thy bed, from thy slumber, work what is wise,
Fashion servants for the Gods, may they produce their bread.
Oh my mother, the creature whose name thou has uttered, it exists,
Bind upon it the will of the Gods;
Mix the heart of clay that is over the Abyss,
The good and princely fashioners will thicken the clay
Thou, do thou bring the limbs into existence;
Ninmah will work above thee
Nintu will stand by thy fashioning;
Oh my mother, decree thou its fate.”